The First Endgame
by PotatoPasta
Summary: Gilbert Beilschmidt is a detective with secrets and pains who is accompanied by his sober companion Kiku Honda. One day, A serial killer "B" who is connected to the case of Gilbert's lover Madeline Williams resurfaces. Gilbert wants to finish everything once and for all, but he finds out there are much more to "B" than he has expected. PruCan / Prussia x Fem!Canada / Fem!Japan
1. Prologue

Prologue

The door I blockaded was about to be smashed open. As soon as I glanced at the window I pulled it open, but outside of the window was a three-stories-fall. I would have climbed down if there wasn't a agonizing wound on my shoulder.

THUMP—!

I jerked my face back at the door. I estimated that it won't be long until for the infiltrator to break in: I didn't have time.

"You're just delaying the inevitable, Beilschmidt! Surrender yourself and I'll make this quick!" With an Eastern European accent, the intruder shouted and continued to slam the door.

The danger which hounded me stimulated my senses to be enhanced, but my body couldn't follow my mind. " _Argh_ …" I fell down powerlessly onto the floor and groaned painfully.

THUMP! THUMP! SLAM—!

After few more kicks full of force, the door was kicked opened. I glared at the blonde intruder who simply shrugged. I panted desperately. It couldn't end like this. When I was _this_ close! When I was at the verge of solving the truth from **him**!

With a malicious grin, the intruder looked down to me like a predator playing with its prey. She kicked me right in my stomach, forcing a painful cough. "Now, in these last excruciating moments you'll have, let me tell you something very interesting." She leaned down and whispered.

I grimaced. "What…?"

"So even if I enjoy this too much, please don't blame me."

 _Nein…!_

BANG! BANG—! BANG! BANG! BANG—!

Five shots from a makarov pistol dropped the blonde down to the floor before I could even think further. The knife which blonde was holding fell from her hand but missed me… barely.

Slowly, the shooter entered into the room. I gasped as the figure revealed itself completely. **His** violet eyes were colder than the Siberian winter and darker than cave's shadow. To defend myself I tried to get up but the my bleeding wounds suppressed me not to. The only thing I could do was to groan and to fall down onto the floor again.

I'd always thought that I encountered far too many dangerous criminals, but those eyes made me to realize there was a whole new level beyond what I'd initially measured. Not only those eyes gave me chills, they also pierced through me. The biggest I felt right now was rage, but no matter how much I wanted to deny, I found myself feeling a glimpse of fear. It was the first time in my life when an individual made me to be afraid with nothing but their own existence.

The Russian scoffed and boasted with his native tongue. " _You're going to wish that you should've listen to me when you had the chance._ " The voice was impassive but persuasive.

Suddenly my pant and groan halted in a heartbeat; everything was crystal clear. What he said was the final blow for the truth which I'd been craving for years. _Now I see what everything was all about._ I gritted my teeth. This was the most confounding truth— no, the biggest confoundment of my life. Everything had been orchestrated for this moment. Every pieces of puzzles and every answers I scrounged were given right here right now. I glared back at the pair of violet eyes with every fiber of my being and reciprocated.

" **Braginski**."

* * *

 **(A/N)**

 **PruCan detective AU, here I come!**

 **I know it's short, but remember, this is a** _ **prologue**_ **, starting from the next chapter, there will be words almost as equal as** _ **When Wings melt the Frozen Heart**_ **or more. So just think of this as a trailer and stay with me, okay? ;)**

 **This story was supposed to be posted on late January but I got a writer's block during the chapter 6 of** _ **When Wings melt the Frozen Heart**_ **;( though I wrote like more than half. If anyone ever read it, please leave a review! Even if they're short it's all right! Because every review means a world to me :)**

 **By the way, this story is** _ **heavily**_ **based on one my favorite TV show** _ **Elementary**_ **!**


	2. B (1)

Kapitel 1.

 _Help me! Please!_

The man wanted to cry for help. But his gags helplessly muffled his cry. Everything happened so quick. The last thing he remembered was that he was sitting on his armchair, watching a news on the television in his living room. But now, here he was, lying on the kitchen floor with restraints on his wrists and ankles. Desperate to live, the man wriggled his body and jerked his wrists and ankles wherever he could. It didn't take long for him to realize getting off of these restraints was impossible.

He took a deep breath and looked around. The infiltrator was nowhere to be found. Maybe he just wanted to rob him and leave? Whatever, his purpose was, the man was glad that the infiltrator was gone. The man took few more deep breaths and started to roll and squirm to get out of the kitchen. It wasn't effective, but it was rewarding.

Thankfully, his kitchen wasn't far from the front door. The man shedded tears of joy and relief when he saw the front door.

 _Okay… I can do this._

Like he did in the kitchen, the man squirmed and rolled repeatedly with the hope to live— until something struck and destroyed both of his kneecaps.

 _ **ARGHH!**_

If the man could have screamed, he would have. However, everything came out of his mouth was slightly louder scream.

"Where do you think you're going?" The infiltrator whispered with an accent which the man couldn't put a finger on. It felt like a lion whispering to his prey before he was about to devour him. The man looked at his predator and he shook his head to beg him. _Please. Please don't do this to me! Please don't hurt me!_

But the infiltrator just grinned. And when man realized what it meant, the terror devoured him. It even obliterated the pain of his broken kneecaps. With the fear and desperation of his death, he did anything he could do: he screamed louder and resisted harder. However, it was meaningless to the infiltrator. Without saying anything, he grabbed the man by his ankles and pulled him to the living room. Once again, the man's beg was helplessly muffled by the gag.

They arrived only to see all the furniture was pushed all the way to the walls. There was nothing but a giant eight-feet tripod device with a pulley and a hook attached at the top. The infiltrator pulled down the hook and attached it into the man's ankle restraint. Slowly, as the infiltrator spinned the pulley, the more the man got pulled to the end. From the pain of pulling the broken kneecaps to the air, the man let out a painful cry and tears which no one would listen or witness.

 _Why are you doing this to me! What do you want!_

"Now, now." The infiltrator pulled out a long metal pipe stained with blood and grinned from black duffle bag. "It would be a shame if we waste what I've prepared for you, don't you think?"

Then the infiltrator swung his pipe straight into the man's jaw.

* * *

"Hi, my name is Carla and I'm an addict."

"Hi, Carla." Everyone in the group support meeting greeted Carla as she introduced herself— except one person who had been silent and motionless the entire time since he arrived with his sober companion, but no one including his sober companion noticed him.

"I have been sober for exactly… three hundred and fifty six days." Then she glanced at the longcase clock. "I could even give you hours and minutes but it'll look too weird I guess." Carla chuckled and shyly continued. "I just wanted to say thank you. To all of you. Without this meeting and your supports, I don't even wanna know where I'd be here right now." She continued her story and everyone listened to her carefully. They were all there for her.

Everyone clapped kindly as Carla returned to her seat. Every last one of them is here to support one another. but there was one person who was still silent and motionless.

Kiku glanced at her client. The man with silver hair and blood-red eyes was slumped on his chair without any movement; even his eyes didn't blink. Maybe he was sleeping with his eyes opened? "Hey." She whispered only to get exactly _zero_ reaction, she was starting to get worried. "You okay?" She whispered again but he was still motionless.

Then it happened. At the moment when Kiku's palm touched her client's shoulder he skyrocketed out of his chair, shouting:

"MAPLE SYRUP!"

Everyone immediately jerked his or her faces at the man with wide-eyes. However, the man could care less. "Hmm, it's six thirty." He simply fished out his phone to check time like nothing had ever happened and marched away. Kiku apologized to the group members and Gilbert followed out of the meeting hall who was gladly marching out plainly. As they left the meeting hall, Kiku started. "Excuse me, Gilbert, but—"

" _Ja_ , excuse _you,_ Honda."

Kiku rolled her eyes. "What just happened there and where do you think you're going?"

"I woke up from a trance which I hypnotized myself. It's simple: repetition of a word, two, in this case. And maple syrup was the key word I'm sure you've already thought so."

Kiku didn't understand. Not just the absurd concept of self-hypnotizing, but also the choice of words. When she was hired by Herr Beilschmidt six weeks ago, he emailed her things about his son including the only food his son was allergic to. Even if someone wanted to put themself into a self-trance and they had to repeat a word, why would they use the only food they were allergic to? Her chain of thoughts didn't continue.

"And I'm going home." Gilbert answered the second question as if Kiku craved him for the answer of one plus one.

"Look, it's been a long time since your last group support meeting. Do you really want to blow this off like this?"

"Any reason to stay? There's nothing but a bunch of sob stories that waste time." Gilbert shrugged.

"In case you haven't notices, that's exactly the point." Kiku continued. "And, you know, you could always share your stories whenever you feel comfortable."

Gilbert scoffed. "Because I'm the type of person who shares my life stories. Congratulations, Honda! You've learn the master's degree of Gilbert Beilschmidt during your residence in my home for six weeks!"

Kiku shook her head. "And was there another reason not to stay and listen?"

Gilbert tapped his temple with his finger. "Attic Theory."

"A what?" Kiku grimaced.

"I believe that human brain could only hold the finite amount of informations. And because the space of the brains are finite, it should only hold the best of oneself. Allow me to demonstrate." Gilbert jerked his hand to grab the glass of lemonade from the table without waiting for the owner's permission and splashed the lemonade away onto the floor. "Can I borrow this?"

"Hey, what the hell!"

The glass's original owner spluttered.

"Your brain," Gilbert ignored her and displayed the glass to his sober companion who —and the glass's original owner— arched on eyebrow with try-me face. Then he displayed a jar of coffee beans, "useful facts: useful, intelligent, and golden." He poured the coffee beans and filled around two-third of the glass, "nattering." For his next step, Gilbert grabbed a sugar bowl and poured it until the sugar made a miniature mountain and overflowed the glass.

 _I can't believe this guy._ Kiku shook her head as Gilbert finished his dashing demonstration of absurd theory.

Gilbert handed the glass to its original owner, "feel free to drink it." Who glared at him before stomping away with swear words.

Looking smug, Gilbert boasted like a high school kid showing off his skateboard skills to littluns next door. "Now you see?"

"Okay, this is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. That's not how the brains work."

"It's how _my_ brain works. Takes notes. If _mein lieber Vater_ is forcing me to live with you, I might as well just make your level of intellect —including the facts about myself— at least a little more higher."

Before Kiku could say anything, Gilbert's phone rang. Which was a perfect timing because if he had opened his mouth for a second, she wouldn't have been so sure that if she could've refrain herself from punching him in the face.

Gilbert answered the call. "Captain Kirkland." When she heard the name, Kiku paused. Captain Arthur Kirkland of the NYPD never called him without a reason. Something serious had happened. She knew what was about waiting for them. "How may I be your assistance?" he asked.

* * *

Captain Arthur Kirkland of NYPD was standing in front of the door waiting for his consulting detective impatiently. He had his glasses on it was his habit to wear glasses when he needed to focus or nervous. The house is crowded with NYPD officers. They all had horrified looks on their faces.

"Beilschmidt. Ms. Honda." Arthur took his glasses off and greeted them. "The owner of the house's name is Colin Bennett. His secretary came to drop off an errand and found the living room like this and called us." The British captain continued with uncertainty. "We're pretty sure that he's the victim."

"Define 'pretty sure' _bitte_?" Gilbert cocked his eyebrow.

"I mean there wasn't a body."

Gilbert didn't have a doubt that this was just another homicide case except the crime scene would be more terrifying than usual. However, when they entered the living room, he faced something that he had never expected to see.

All there were blood splatters all over the living room like something had exploded in the middle. Someone was brutally beaten down by something blunt until they died.

Even Kiku, who worked as a formal surgeon covered her mouth from the atrocious scene. "Oh my God…"

"We pulled some hairs from his comb in his bedroom to check for the DNA, so for now, yeah." Arthur was still shocked from the brutality of the crime scene.

Kiku glanced at Gilbert who knelt down and gazing at the floor. She felt that something wasn't right.

"Aside from… this." Arthur's face twisted in disgust. "The scene is clean. This sick son of a bitch left nothing. We don't know the first thing about him."

"Actually we have three."

"Pardon me?"

"The front door was meticulously picked. You can't learn such skills in streets. Judging by his works, he's well trained."

"Continue." Arthur crossed his arms.

"And also strong. He has to be. Since he hooked his victim before he murdered him." Gilbert drew a triangle with his arms. "The hook's gone now but it was one point attached to a tripod device of the killer's own design. He assembled it after incapacitated his victim then hung him upside down. Lastly, the perp beat his victim to death with a metal pipe."

"A metal pipe?"

Ignoring his captain's suspicion, Gilbert pointed three groove marks on the floor. "Here, there, and there." Arthur and Kiku stood where the groove marks were and carefully examined them.

"After murdering his victim, he dismantled the device and took it with the body." Gilbert concluded.

"How the hell could you deduce all that from these splatters of blood?" Kiku inquired.

"I did not. I've actually hunted this particular murderer before."

 _What?_ Arthur and Kiku made the same shocking expressions.

Gilbert's eyes sharpened like the eyes of the predator which had been patiently preparing to hunt its target. "In Berlin."

* * *

 _And now you're here. I won't let you go this time._

"'B'." Gilbert started with the name. In the bullpen of the 11th precinct, he stood in front of the bulletin board covered all over with documents and pictures of crime scenes and bodies presenting everything he knew about the perpetrator. Two dozens of police officers heeded him. Among them, two people paid their attentions the most. Captain Arthur Kirkland leaning on a wall at the corner with his glasses on and Kiku sat nervously with her legs crossed.

"It's rather a simple nickname for such an atrocious monster. And unfortunately, that's everything we have for now. He's been active seen july 20XX, during the last ten years and two months, he has tallied a body count of forty five— Forty _six_ including Colin Bennett last night. Also he has no type or profile of victim, which indicates that it's almost impossible predict where, when, and who he'll strike."

"His oldest victim was in her early 80s and the youngest was… thirteen."

Half of the officer's face darkened.

Noticing this, Gilbert continued calmly. "He beats his victims with metal pipe until they die then dump their bodies in the oceans. Twenty three bodies of victims were recovered when they washed up on the coastline. The blood at the crime scene was confirmed to be Bennett, right?"

Arthur nodded. "Every last drop of them."

Gilbert suggested. "I suggest that body of Bennett would make an appearance in one of the beaches in few days."

One of the officers grabbed his phone and stood up from his seat. "I'll call the coast guards to keep an eye out."

"Over the years, 'B' rarely corresponded with the police." Gibert handed the pile of pictures of the letters he'd been holding to the nearest officer. The letters weren't written. They were typewritten but not with ink but blood. "You'll notice that he has a tendency to ramble. But I assure you: 'B' isn't a madman as he wants us to believe. His letters are attempts to make us to believe he's one thing when he's actually another."

Kiku noticed Gilbert's eyes glowered.

"Finally, whenever 'B' appears he's never satisfied with one murder; therefore, the whole NYPD and the FBI should prepare for more body drops. I've already shared my personal files about him to the station so make sure to read them. That's all."

Everyone either turned their chairs or went back to their seats as Gilbert ended his presentation about 'B'. Gilbert entered the meeting room and searched for the files in the storaged boxes marked 'B'. Kiku followed him. "Gil, how are you doing?"

Gilbert's eyes focused on the boxes but he replied. " _Sehr gut_. Lovely to see you doing your work."

"You seem more intense."

"Oh, do I?" Gilbert scoffed. "What do you think? As I laid my eyes on the crime scene, there was no doubt that it was done by 'B'."

"Yeah, I noticed that. But last night, the way you were staring at the crime scene. This is something personal, isn't it?" Worries and determinations coalesced in Kiku's eyes. During the six weeks of her job as a sober companion, she was never separated from Gilbert no longer than two hours. Where he went she went, resulting her to developed skills like being more aware of details and environments, looking at people with different angles, and spotting when someone was hiding something. This case is different from what they had worked through, she could feel it. However, Gilbert was Gilbert. Probably the smartest person Kiku had ever met. If he wanted to keep a secret, there was no way she could figure it out. The only way she could deal it with of was to confront him.

Finally, Gilbert turned his head at Kiku. Then he walked passed her to close the door and returned to his boxes. But this time, he didn't avoid Kiku. With an exhale, he admitted.

"Ten years ago, when 'B' committed his first murder, I was the axis of the investigation. However, by the time he claimed his forty-fifth life—" Gilbert paused but decided that Kiku won't stop until she figure things out: figure the **truth** out. "My addiction became so severe I became useless to the police. Now, he resurfaces in New York; it's a second chance to put this _Ficker (fucker)_ behind bars." He grinned.

At that moment, never in her life Kiku had realized the true meaning behind what Gilbert said was something much more sinister.

Knock knock—

"Oi, let me ask you something, lad." Arthur entered the meeting room and joined their conversation. He looked like he had been waiting to ask Gilbert something in private. "This sick bastard 'B'— was he aware of you working with the police back in Berlin?"

"He referred me once or twice in the letters if my memory serves right, _warum_?"

"Don't you think you think it's weird? Him coming to New York after, what? Not even two months after you?"

Gilbert shrugged innocently. "Dunno. Maybe? To be honest I'm flattered though."

Arthur's eyes narrowed and Gilbert grinned innocently. "Anyway I'll put two uniforms in front of house."

Gilbert shook his head. "Oh, that's unnecessary—"

"We appreciate it. Thank you." Kiku cut Gilbert as he tried to decline Arthur's offer. When Gilbert tried to protect the next guest interrupted him.

Knock Knock—

"Captain." It was the officer who left to call coast guards "They found the body."

* * *

After a long night of work, Kiku and Gilbert came back home exhausted. Examining the body wasn't very productive. It only assured that it was the work of 'B'. However, founding the body narrowed the dumpsite to entire eastside of Manhattan.

Kiku hung her coat on the coat hanger but Gilbert sprinted into the living room only to halt.

"Okay, we're out of groceries and it's over eleven o'clock which means most of the restaurants are closed. But I think we can order some food from an overnight diner so if you want something to eat, just let me know." Kiku asked before dialing the number.

"Honda, I need you to be very quiet right now."

"Why? Does my nattering occupies unnecessary spaces in your brain?"

"Because I believe our house became a crime scene."

As Kiku jerked her face in shock, she saw what Gilbert was glaring. There was one thing that shouldn't be placed on the desk in the middle of the living room.

A note. Written in blood instead of ink by a typewriter on a sheet of paper, orchestrating a deadly message.

" _ **Men make plans, God laughs. I am laughing at you now as I always have. You think you honor me with your pursuit, you do not. You are a mouse chasing a lion, a mere planet in orbit of a raging sun."**_

 _ **-B-**_

* * *

 **( A / N )**

 **I wanted to finish writing the chapter 6 of When** _ **Wings melt the Frozen Heart**_ **, but for some reason I felt the strong necessity of posting the chapter 1. So… here you go! Hope you enjoyed!**

 **I know many people in our fandom like to use "Sakura" for Fem!Japan's name, but I just decide to go with "Kiku". First, I loved the meaning behind it:** **Chrysanthemum. They are really beautiful flowers :)** **And according to my Japanese friend who actually came from Japan, "Kiku" is close to a girl's name!**

 **Lastly, there will be no romance between Gilbert and Kiku! Sorry Prussia x Japan shippers! But this is strictly a PruCan story! ;)**

 **Always craving for reviews :)**


	3. B (2)

Kapitel 2.

 _Two years ago in Berlin, Germany…_

"Door's open."

Without asking twice, I opened the door. It was a small but beautiful flat full of illustrations from fairy tales. Their origins varied. Most of them were familiar or at least I could determine where they were from, but some of them were completely foreign to me.

"Just a minute," the girl said without looking at my side.

Although I only had a glimpse of her look from the side, there was no doubt that she was one the prettiest girl I'd ever seen in my life. She had long wavy blonde hair reached her waist and wore a big red sweater with maple leaf. But her greatest charm came from her pair of beautiful violet eyes.

"Hi. You must be the detective?" She was still preoccupied.

Despite being an English speaker —later I found out, she was Canadian to be precise— the blonde woman spoke impressive German.

I nodded and introduced myself, "consulting detective Gilbert Beilschmidt."

Finally, the girl got out of her table and reached out her hand, "I'm Madeline Williams but you can call me Madd… oh." When Madeline saw me, she paused, looking surprised. It wasn't hard to assume the reason why.

 _Ja, Fräulein. Silver hair and red eyes are hard to see._ I silently clicked my tongue.

Madeline dropped her German. "You're beautiful."

 _Hmm?_ I arched my eyebrow for the random but flattering comment.

Her eyes rapidly scanned my face and drew a small circle with an amazed look. "You look like— the image I draw whenever I read the tales with knight with shining armor." She was only looking at my face, instead of the rare features such as my silver hair and my red eyes. It felt like she was looking at the forest not the tree.

 _That's… such a compliment coming from you._ I cleared my throat. "Anyway, as I mentioned on my email, I'm here for Frau Müller. You said that her copy of the fairytale is a forgery?"

"I am very certain." It was more than intriguing that there was no sign of hesitations but full of certainty.

"You sure? Frau Müller thinks that you're wrong about this."

"Yeah, I could understand why. It's a _good_ forgery, but you know, forgery," Madeline shrugged. "If you look closely at the ink, you'll notice that it is written with pen."

I gave her a so-what? Face.

Noticing this, she continued. "It is not supposed to written in pen. As much as it's hard to believe, but it should've been carved with _knives_."

I blinked.

"You see, some of the parchments during medieval era were too thick to write with pen. Because the scholars then used them to preserve them for long periods of time, resulting them to literally carve the paper in order to save their records."

This was something I absolutely had no idea of. _Sehr gut, Liebling. You got me._ "Surprised I didn't know that."

"Well, I guess Frau Müller will throw her book into her fireplace as soon as she finds out that it's fake." I grinned at the cartoonish image in my head. Although Müller was my client, case was solved. I honestly didn't care less about what she'd do after I inform this to her.

Madeline sighed, "it's a shame, really."

"Agreed. She _did_ spend tons of money on auction to get that—"

"I mean it's sad that she'll destroy them. Forgeries didn't want to be born as forgeries. Like how peasants in the tales didn't want to be born as peasants."

… _Oh, wow_. This girl had a talent to compel people to see things in her point of view.

Before I left, I stood in the middle of her flat and admired what she had. While Madeline gave me why-are-you-still-here face. What intrigued me the most was the old victorian shelf full of artifacts and books. Some of them caught my attention. Just by looking at them with a naked eye, I knew what they were.

" _Oh, entschuldige mich_. I didn't mean to linger…" Finally, I responded to her and a little more, "may I assume you're a collector as well? Although I do find it illicit."

"What are you talking about?"

I grinned, "I just noticed a few contents of the shelf over there. Some of them seems like they're just well made but that's they're true purpose is it? They're placed to provide camouflage of those _priceless_ artifacts you've collected."

Madeline paused, "how did you know?"

"I'm a detective, remember?" I winked. "Don't worry about the police officers."

"You're not telling them about me?" Madeline asked with disbelief. She was confused about why I wasn't going to turn her in.

I shook my head, "in fact, I want to play a game with you. I'll tell you which of these artifacts are real or not. If I win—" I grinned as Madeline arched her eyebrow. "Spend a night with me in this great historical city."

Madeline contemplated but replied with a grin and surprising suggestion. "I accept but I have a question," she grinned. A very, _very_ seductive grin. "I already told you that you're beautiful, and I can see the way you're looking at me. So why do we need to leave my flat to enjoy each other's company?"

This was the third time within five minutes that she surprised and flattered me at the same time. When was the last time I felt those two at the same time from someone? _Scheiße_ I couldn't remember even with my awesome brain.

"I love challenge," I reciprocated and reached out my hand which took it gently with a graceful smile. There wasn't a thing about this girl that I disliked.

Surprising no one, I won our little game; if not, she lost intentionally. Hell, I didn't give a shit as far as I could tell. All that I cared was for the price after the game, this jaw-droppingly beautiful girl invited me to her bed and turned me on like a motherfucking—

* * *

"Did you talk to the officers outside?"

"Yes, Captain. They said they were parked at their position all night, but never saw anyone breaking in."

"He came from the backdoor. The lock was picked." Gilbert added whiling analyzing the note one last time, "I gotta say: he's an expert."

First thing Gilbert did as soon as him and Kiku came back from the precinct was to call Captain Kirkland. Being caught off guard, he radioed all the officers who were near their house to protect and stay in position until the captain himself and his patrols came. They searched for any sign "B" might had left and took pictures all over the house as soon as they arrived. Nothing was found but Arthur was glad no harm fell to Gilbert and Kiku.

"So…" Arthur exhaled and brushed his hair frustratingly as he looked at Gilbert. "That answers the question whether he came to New York for you or not."

When his captain eyed him, Gilbert stepped away from the note he was sniffing, ignoring the criticizing looks of other detectives.

" _Tut mir leid,_ _Kapitän (Sorry, Captain)_. If I had any idea that my presence would've drawn him here…"

Arthur waved his arms interrupting Gilbert's apology, "hey, hey. Calm down, lad. He's crazy one," he pointed at the note. "Not you. Got it?"

Gilbert bitterly nodded. Arthur suspected something was off but he just assumed it was because he was surprised because of "B".

"Anyway, you both go and pack your stuffs. We have safe houses in our disposal. Some of them are even closer to our precinct than your house. Stay there until 'B' is behind bars, got it?"

Gilbert shrugged, "I think that's completely unnecessary."

"What the—" Arthur bewildered. "Blimey! Are you kidding me? There's a homicidal maniac with four dozen murders out there who just intruded your house but you're saying you won't leave?"

"You're missing something. If he wanted to kill me, he would've waited until I came instead leaving a note, don't you think?"

"Bloody hell, _Beilschmidt_ ," Arthur growled.

" _Nein_ , can't you see?" Gilbert pointed at the note. "He wants the game. He wants my full attention. He wants me to engage him with everything I got!" Gilbert added, "if you're worried just leave more stakeout at the back of the brownstone. However, I know for the _fact_ that I'm quite safe in this house."

Arthur threw his hands in defeat, "so be it." He sighed and turned his attention to Kiku, "how about you, Ms. Honda?"

"I'm staying. I go where he goes, remember?" Arthur was the only one in the precinct who knew about Gilbert's addiction and Kiku's stealthy occupation and duties. He gazed her with silence but nodded. "You two be careful, alright? If anything happens or if you change your mind do not hesitate to call me."

"Thank you so much, Captain. And good night," Kiku walked Arthur out to the front door and waved good night.

Arthur nodded. "You know my number," he added before he left the house with other officers.

Kiku stayed calm but truth to be told, she was scared.

Although they only met a month ago, Kiku believed in Gilbert when it came to

But when she entered the living room, something else caught Kiku's attention.

"What're those?"

There were two things which seemed unnatural.

Gilbert was looking a place which appeared to be an empty place under the construction on his laptop and a picture of a smiling woman who had had long wavy light blonde hair with violet eyes. She was beautiful; even from her picture, Kiku thought that the woman was one of the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

"Oh," he closed the window on the screen and flipped the picture when Kiku asked.

"It's one of my father's properties in New York. I was thinking it looked like a decent place to move after 'B' is captured," Gilbert waved at the note.

Kiku swallowed, "I thought you said we're quite safe in this house?"

"We are, we are. Don't worry," Gilbert calmed Kiku raising his arms. "I'm just thinking ahead. This house got penetrated once. And maybe next time, the perp might leave a little more than a note."

"And the picture? Is she someone important?"

"A cold case I had before I came to New York," Gilbert explained.

"Why are you watching a picture of someone who's not even related to this case?"

"Sometimes looking at something completely unrelated gives you motivations."

Kiku arched an eyebrow but Gilbert was Gilbert. He had always found answers to the crimes in most surprising ways. This couldn't be very different. "Okay, I'm going to bed. But do you need anything?"

" _Ja_ , a complete silence. _Gute Nacht,_ " Gilbert shooed not even bothering to look.

Kiku shook her head and went upstairs to her bedroom.

* * *

As Gilbert heard Kiku closing her door, he walked in front of the bookshelf and grabbed a thick reptile dictionary with a leather cover.

Flip—

However, there were only limited informations about reptiles one could get. The _true_ purpose of the dictionary was the small video camera hidden inside the carved space of the dictionary. Gilbert fished out the camera and connected it to his laptop. There were recordings of the past three days. Kiku's residence made Gilbert to be more clandestine about his surveillance system, but he had never missed check them regularly.

Click, click—

The screen displayed surveillance video of the living room in 64x speed. _There!_ Gilbert paused the screen at the perfect timing as he saw man with chin-length bob cut blonde hair dressed in black entering the living room. Then he played the video in its original speed.

There he was— "B". The one who Gilbert had never stopped hunting for ten years. Until his last crime, Gilbert almost gave up on hunting him. His eyes darkened as he saw the face of his nemesis. He played the part where "B" entered the living room and leaving the not repeatedly until he imprinted every last details in his brain. _You have no idea how long I've waited for this._ He took a screenshot of the recording and attached it to his email which he was sending to at least twenty different addresses.

* * *

Under the pouring rain, stood the blonde man with chin-length bob cut. His mint-green eyes focused on the woman who was entering her house with an umbrella in her hand and a bag of grocery in her other hand. The blonde had been following her for hours. He needed every little details for his next hunt.

"Yo, man! Check this out, I got some knockoff Gucci shades, thirty bucks and they're yours" shouted the Hispanic hawker who looked like he was in his late teen.

"Not interested," the blonde didn't even bother to look.

"You a foreigner? Love the accent!" the hawker's eyes brightened playfully. _Jackpot!_ He dug his hand into his duffle again. But this time, he took out completely different materials. "Alright, yo! Then how about some movies? If you buy three DVDs, I'll give you fourth one for free! I guarantee: they're all hundred-percent from Hollywood made with 1080hp!"

"Piss off," warned the blonde. This hawker was _profoundly_ getting on his nerves.

"C'mon, yo. At least just look at 'em for me?" the hawker was begging but he was also practically rubbing his merchandises to the blondes

" _Back the fuck off_!" the blonde maliciously pushed the hawker onto the ground.

Immediately, everyone within at least sixty-feet radius jerked their faces to him, whispering to their friends or partners about the blonde.

"What the fuck, dude?" the hawker exclaimed. "You just broke my fucking phone!"

 _Scheiße_. The blonde was publicly exposed. He quickly jerked his head towards his target. Fortunately, she didn't notice him. _Arschloch…_ he swore in his thought aiming at the hawker before hurrying away from the street. However, he already had memorized her daily routine, her address, and how to break into her house.

The woman will die tonight.

* * *

Kiku was reading the note that "B" left. She felt… disoriented. But mostly, she was worried about Gilbert. How would it feel like to face someone who one had been chasing for years? She couldn't even imagine how deep Gilbert thought about this case.

Buzz—

Her chain of thoughts was interrupted when the doorbell rang. Kiku put down the note and went to the door. The person behind the door should've been one of the officers. However, there were two people standing outside of the door. First person was one of the officers who had been staking out and the other one was an irritated looking teenage Hispanic boy who Kiku had never met before in her life.

"Sorry to bother you, Ms. Honda, but this boy insists that he has to see Mr. Beilschmidt, claiming that he's a friend."

Kiku was confused. "Gilbert's not here and I don't know him."

"Look, ma'am. Gilbert told me to call him but I couldn't because my cell broke," the boy looked even more irritated.

Kiku raised her eyebrow, "you said your Gilbert's friend?"

" _Associate_ ," the boy corrected. "He ain't got no friends."

The officer eyed the boy with a big disapproval. "Just say the word and I'll keep him out."

"It's okay. He's safe," Kiku eased the officer who was still skeptical.

The officer clicked his tongue but he let the boy.

The boy whistled as he entered the brownstone.

"Never been here before, but this place is nice."

Kiku started, "what's your name?"

"Michael. But you can call me Mikey," Michael winked.

"How did you meet Gilbert?" Kiku asked, thinking lightly about Michael's wink.

"Me and the other boys met him at Central Park when we were pickpocketing. Ain't nobody made us except that guy. He told us to give his things back, but he didn't call the cops."

Kiku rolled her eyes. _Now that sounds him._

But there were more.

"Since then, he gives us errands time to time."

Kiku grimaced, "wait, what do you mean by he gives you errands?"

It had been six weeks living with him, but Kiku had no idea that Gilbert ran bunch of kids for errands.

"Just like today," Michael shrugged. "Last night he emailed a picture of this man and told us whoever finds him first will get three hundred bucks. He said to look closely around expensive hotels. I found him and followed him. So I'm here to get my money," he casually showed the picture to her.

Kiku eyes widened as she saw the picture of their living room with a man in the middle.

"If this is who I think it is, he's dangerous. You really shouldn't have approached him."

"Yeah, Gilbert warned us to stick to public places," Michael shrugged as if it were nothing to him. "When I found him, I even got him to talk to me, to make sure it was him. His accent was bit off, but he did sound like German. Just like he said."

Kiku put down the picture on the desk and looked around the living room. _Okay… judging by the angle of the picture, it must've been taken on that corner._ On the corner there was a bookshelf, she placed a chair and used it to reach the top shelf and started to search through the dictionaries.

"Yo, is he gonna be here soon? 'Cuz I gotta get paid," Michael eyed her with expectation.

One of the dictionaries was distinctive. Kiku opened the dictionary and saw the true purpose within it. There was a small video camera hidden inside the carved space of the dictionary. She angrily fished it out.

"Now, that's _sick_." Michael exclaimed. Still not understanding the severity of the situation and the seriousness of the atmosphere in the living room.

* * *

It was a disappointing and dysfunctional day. Gilbert waited the whole day but neither he didn't he hear anything from the children nor he received any replies. With a stress boiling inside of him, he opened the door to his house and went to the kitchen. However, what waited him was Kiku sitting besides the table with glares.

"Care to explain this?" Kiku nodded the picture of a man who she suspected to be "B" onto the table.

Gilbert was speechless.

"I got these from your little friend. Michael I think his name was? He said that he found this man wandering around near an expensive hotel."

Gilbert was still speechless.

"No?" Kiku challenged. "Then what about this?" she pushed the stack of dictionaries with hidden cameras. I searched the place while you were out. I found three others exactly like this but I can't even imagine how many I _couldn't_ find." Her voice became louder as Gilbert didn't give any excuse. "You know it's interesting to me, you didn't say anything about your clandestine homemade-surveillance system to me when I moved in to your house."

"An eagle never leave his nest unsecured. Did you really think I'd leave my house without any surveillances?" finally Gilbert spoke. But it wasn't hard to tell that there was a deep sarcasm lying behind it.

 _I've had enough._ "Fine," Kiku got up from her chair and slammed the picture of "B" on the table, "is this 'B'?" It wasn't a question; it was a clearance. Gilbert kept silence. "You ordered a bunch of teenagers to wander around to five-stars hotels to look for him. I want to know why."

Gilbert sauntered slowly like a jaguar revealing himself to his prey. He didn't do anything threatening but he was oozing frightening atmosphere that compelled Kiku hard to breathe. When Gilbert was only a few inches away from kiku, he grabbed the picture and displayed it to her.

"Note his clothes," he pointed. "Starting with this pair of driving gloves to his shoes, everything he's wearing are worth at least few grands. If you sell all those you could even buy a car though they are pre-owned by him."

With that notion Kiku looked into the picture clearly. Indeed, she realized that all of the attires were from priceless brands.

"But, why did I not think he's living in his own place? Because the faintest scent from the note that he left. It's a brand of soap and shampoo which only a few expensive hotels uses."

There was no excitement that Gilbert usually had whenever he showed his deductive reasonings to Kiku. Just emptiness.

"Conclusion: 'B' is a wealthy emigre who came to New York within last two months, living in expensive hotels."

Then without another word, Gilbert left.

Kiku stomped from behind and stood in front of Gilbert. and confronted. There was no way that she was going to let this slide like nothing had happened. "That's genius and all, but what I wanna know is why did you share the picture of extremely dangerous _serial killer_ to bunch of kids instead of telling all this to the NYPD."

Gilbert paused and faced Kiku. Millions of thoughts circled his brain. A second felt like an hour and an hour felt like a second. Maybe an hour had truly passed. It didn't matter. He decided that he had to face her.

"Honda, what do you think is the reason my father hired you?" he started.

" _This_ is how I do my job. I don't care you like it or—"

"How do you think my addiction started in the first place?"

Kiku lost her words.

"My usage of drugs began far before I ended up in a rehab and forced an addict sitter."

Kiku's face darkened, but Gilbert wasn't finished.

"In those occasions, I used them cautiously mostly when I needed mental boosts on especially challenging cases although I did use them for solely recreational purposes sometimes."

Gilbert continued, "there was a woman name Madeline Williams. I tried to keep this and a secret, but she died an year ago."

Suddenly it was easy to connect the dots. It was a mistake for Kiku to believe Gilbert about what he said last night. The woman in the picture was indeed related to "B".

"She's the woman in the picture and she was someone you cared about."

Gilbert simply eyed her but no words were needed. However, with the most calmest voice that Kiku had ever heard from him, he continued.

"And to answer why didn't I share all of this with the NYPD, it's simple."

Kiku didn't breathe— couldn't breathe.

"I don't want to arrest 'B'."

The terror overcame Kiku's body. This was it. Something sinister that Kiku sensed at the precinct the other day, it wasn't a mistake.

" **I want to torture and kill him.** "

* * *

 **( A / N )**

 **Whoa, Gil. Chill out o_O**

 **Sorry I'm taking so long. Not just this story, but the others as well. I really thought I could write and update frequently now the school's on break, but my winter class… it occupies me more than I expected ;(**

 **About the conversation between Gil and Maddie, I have no idea that's an actual fact or not.**

 **Thank you so much for reading! Bis später!**


	4. B (3)

Kapitel 3.

It was a typical saturday night for the Amanda Bird. Watching favorite TV show, lying comfortably on her couch with a remote on her one hand and a bowl of popcorns on the other hand. Next to her, a dog named Katie was leaning her head on leg, purring affectionately. Imagine Amanda's surprise when Katie suddenly raised her head and barked.

Amanda cocked her head and asked, "What's going on, Katie?" when she was about to place her hand on Katie to calm her, the dog jumped out of the couch and sprinted to the front door.

It was strange. Why would she bark and sprint to the door for no reason? Amanda put down her remote and her popcorn on the coffee table and got up from my couch to go see what was going on.

"Katie, what's wrong?" when Amanda wasn't even an yard away from her front door, she asked. As if it were a cue, Katie stopped barking anymore. In fact, she was no longer showing any aggressive attitudes. The dog was too busy happily wagging her tail while licking a sausage that was place right in front of the front door.

"Where the hell did you get that?" Amanda gasped. She was a vegan. The only time she bought meats was when she had to buy treats for her dog. It was nearly impossible to find a meat in her house. Instinctively, her gaze shifted from her dog to the front door. It was opened and its lock was picked. There was only one conclusion.

Someone broke into her house.

Swallowing her scream with every last ounce of courage she had, with trembling fingers Amanda reached out to her phone— however, her predator was too smart to let that happen.

* * *

"What do you mean you're going to torture and kill him?" Kiku inquired as Gilbert sauntered all around the house and gathered that were once normal tools, but now deadly instruments of death: knife, hammer, drill, bone saw, rib cutter, and blow torch. Just by looking at them frightened Kiku. The scariest part was the vivid images of what Gilbert was going to do weren't just imaginations.

"Was I not clear? Even with all those education you must've gotten from your med school, you still don't understand what I said?"

"Hey, this isn't a joke!" Kiku grasped Gilbert's shoulder and faced him.

"This is revenge," said Gilbert so plainly as if he were ordering a food. However, his eyes were something from deadly predator. He pushed her hand away.

"How can you be so calm right now?"

"Let me tell you a secret, Honda: on the outside, I'm being calm

I'm simply presenting a calm exterior but I am not calm. I am roiling. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this moment. Since the day he killed her."

"Madeline," remarked Kiku. Gilbert didn't comment but there no need for him to.

"We were together for _sechs_ months. Before I met her my relationships with other women were nothing means to satisfy each other's needs. Let's just say she was nothing like the other women I've met."

 _You didn't just care about her._ "You were in love with her."

For a few seconds Gilbert halted. It was subtle but Kiku could notice.

"After Madeline's death, I lost control of the usage of drugs. I must've tried at least dozens of stimulants to help authorities to identify B. However, when weeks turned to months the case finally went cold. Then I started to use opiates. Ultimately, heroines. That's how I ended up with _you_ ," concluded Gilbert as if he were accusing Kiku; as if she were the one to be blamed.

However, Kiku knew better. She understood that he only needed someone he could point his finger to relief himself from his pain, sorrow, and loss.

Kiku quietly declared, "Look, even though I didn't imagine you'd open up to me like this I appreciate you telling me about what happened. But you've come a long way from Berlin and became sober. I won't let you ruin everything by hunting down a serial killer."

Gilbert scoffed as if Kiku attempted a bad joke, "You really don't get it, do you? Everything you've done— like _every_ meeting you've forced me to go and _every_ activities you've compelled me to do, is for this moment: the final stage! **The end game** ," he added, "And I will make sure I won't discard anything I've learned."

"I didn't help you to become sober so you can be a murderer," protested Kiku, but she started to feel deep in her heart that there was no way of reasoning with him. If Gilbert intended to do something, he never stopped until he saw its end.

"It wasn't my plan either. This is something that I've never even imagined to be." Gilbert walked passed Kiku and specified, "Not until when my feet touched the crime scene the other day."

"Think about what Madeline would have wanted. Think about what she'd want you to do right now!"

"Let's talk about what _you_ would've wanted to do. You saw that crime scene the other day. You saw how inhumanely B kills his victims. Right now is the only chance that I can make him pay for what he did. So tell me, Honda: what am I supposed to do?"

Kiku couldn't say that she didn't understand Gilbert. If she were in his shoes, she would've wanted to kill B herself as well. However, she couldn't let him do this. Not only as her duty as a sober companion but also as his… friend. No matter how much Gilbert denied it.

"However angry and sad you are about what happened to her. You're not gonna feel any better after killing the man who did it. Do you really think she would want you to hunt him down and kill him?" inquired Kiku.

"No, I think she would've wanted me to be there to save her when he killed her." Without waiting for Kiku to reply, Gilbert sauntered towards the front door. "By the way, if you're thinking about following me," he warned her before he left, "I completely recommend against it." However, when their eyes met, Kiku could've sworn that she saw a hint of lament.

"You're gonna regret this," Kiku stood motionlessly. "Not because of what you'll do to B, but because of what you'll realize after what you've done to Madeline."

"We'll see about that."

Was it just her imagination or did she hear him choking up?

The door closed quietly. Somehow Kiku would've felt better if he had slammed it shut.

* * *

"I can't fucking believe this!"

Arthur slammed his fist on his desk and snapped, "That bastard, he— I lost my own people too. However, whenever I wanted to kill those fuckers myself my duty as a police captain compelled me not to." He gritted his teeth and ran his palm through his hair. "I'm going to send all my lads to those hotels. Let's see if this won't drag that bastard out."

After furiously radioing everyone about Gilbert and B, Arthur grabbed his coat and opened his office's door. "Anyway thank you for telling me this, Ms. Honda. I know you'd prefer to go back alone but please let one of my officers to escort you."

"Much obliged," appreciated Kiku.

"I know it's kinda late to ask, but he… you weren't hurt by any chance, were you? When you confronted him about this." Arthur didn't think Gilbert would've hurt Kiku. However, when he was about to torture and murder a man in cold blood, what he thought didn't matter.

Kiku shook her head. "No, he just warned me not to follow."

"That's good," Arthur sighed in relief, "That guy knows some bollocks skills. There were many ways he could've you without hurting you. It just occurred to me he might have done so before he went to the hotel."

 _There were many ways he could've stopped you without hurting you._

It didn't make sense. If Gilbert didn't want Kiku to follow him he would've subdued her or locked her in her room. However, he didn't even lay a finger on her. He must've already known that Kiku would've gone straight to the police and tell everyone about his plan. Did he really think Kiku won't tell the police?

 _Gilbert is smarter than that. He might already know that I'm talking to Captain Kirkland right now._

Then the idea hit her. _Oh my God… he_ Kiku hurriedly called, "Captain!"

With a caught off guard look, Arthur halted and raised his eyebrow at Kiku.

"You need to think about the possibility that B might not be in the hotel: the possibility that Gilbert already has him."

Arthur's eyes widened with confusion. However, his eyes darkened as he realized what Kiku had thought. " _That son of a bitch_!" He snapped again and hurriedly ordered his officers, ignoring their astonishment, "Listen up, everyone. I want all of you to stop whatever you're doing. From this instance, the top priority is to arrest B and Gilbert Beilschmidt."

Gilbert didn't stop her, because he didn't want to hurt her. Gilbert didn't stop her, because he wanted her to distract the NYPD to search hotels while he goes to hunt B.

There was no time. Kiku needed to stop him right now.

* * *

The infiltrator orderly was placing his tripod in the middle of the living room while his target was screaming her loudest cry of help which was muffled. He'd never cared about his victims cries of help or beg of plead. In the end, they always had shut fuck up once he started smashing them with his deary old instrument: metal pipe.

And this one would be no different. He'd say she was quite a screamer though. She's be one of his victims who irritated his ears the most before they died.

 _Let's prep this as soon as possible_. The infiltrator silently decided.

"I thought you'd be taller." A sudden voice startled him. He turned around only to face the infuriated German with silver hair and a pair blood-red eyes which were glowing _dangerously_.

"You?!" Not only infiltrator immediately recognized the owner's voice, but also his face. _How can this be? Why is he in the city? How the hell did he know I was here?_

" _Ich_ ," Gilbert nodded and displayed something in his hand at the infiltrator, "Taser."

Before the infiltrator could run or fight him, Gilbert jabbed his taser into his stomach. The infiltrator but soon fell onto the ground unconscious, pathetically quivering from the high voltage shock.

* * *

Sitting on the stool, Gilbert fiddled with a remote, playing with the level of voltage he was about to strike. On the table there were B's possessions and his jacket and the instruments of death and in front of him there was B, sprawledly restrained on the side of an ornamental steel fence wired to a modified generator.

 _This ends now._ Gilbert pressed the button on his remote.

B's eyes snapped open, painfully screaming. He struggled from his restraints but it was meaningless.

"You're awake. Good." Gilbert casually turned the remote off. "I was worried that I might have been too strong. I'm glad I didn't. After everything, I'd hate for you to die too quickly."

"That'd be a shame." Despite the high voltage Gilbert shot him, B made a crooked grin. "I must say _this_ " he glanced at his shackles and examined his environments. The whole place seemed like an empty warehouse under construction. There were dusts, white powders, and plastics everywhere. "is unexpected though. I didn't know you had it in you. Thought you'd kissing your captain's ass for a promotion right now."

"Humorous. I like that," Gilbert reciprocated.

Chuckling at his own joke, B asked, "So why here? Instead of taking me straight to _Polizei_."

"You know why: Madeline." Although he could hide the pain, calling her name felt like someone had stabbed Gilbert in the heart.

B shrugged, contemplated, then recognized the name. "Ah… right. Madeline Williams. The Canadian national who died in her flat last year." He twitched his lips. "Hate to break it to you, but it wasn't me."

"Oh, I bet. There are countless murderers in Berlin who beat their victims to death with their metal pipe."

"I was in a hospital for a week. Imagine my surprise when I saw 'infamous B strikes again!' on the news after I got out." B grinned as he continued, "Tsk, but you disappoint me. Did that cheap knock-off really let you fall so easily? _The_ Gilbert Beilschmidt? Legendary detective of Berlin?"

 _What should I start with? Hammer? Drill?_ Contemplated Gilbert in his head.

"Huh, anyway, tell me. Were you two a _thing_?" smirked B. Despite his situations, he sensed that he had an upperhand between them.

Detecting the hint of rage and pain in Gilbert's eyes, B dug deeper. "You were. Weren't you? Tsk, sentimentality. It always drives people stupid. No wonder it took you too long to find me and you still couldn't catch the imposter."

 _You want to get more personal? Fine. Let's get personal._

"I must admit I'm disappointed in you too. I thought you'd be a better liar." Gilbert threateningly put a brass knuckle on his hand.

B arched his eyebrow, didn't even bother to look at the brass knuckle. "I'm not lying?"

"Why wouldn't you? When we're at the final stage of our game: _dein langsamer Tod (your slow death)_." Gilbert sauntered towards him dangerously.

B lecherously scoffed. "I used to be a mercenary. And in this gig, death is inevitable one way or another. It's an old friend."

"Then let's get started." Gilbert fist smashed into B's face.

* * *

"I wanted to scream, I swear! …But he had gagged me. And I c—couldn't move because he tied my hands and—" Amanda hyperventilated and wrapped her arms around her chest. The survived/rescued victim's reaction was something Arthur and Kiku witnessed too much, but that didn't mean that they couldn't help themselves but to sympathize.

"It's okay, Ms. Bird. Take your time and don't push yourself too hard," calmed Arthur who was jotting down his witness's statement on his note. He didn't let any statement to slip.

"And later the second man walked in," Amanda continued after inhaling a few deep breaths.

Arthur and Kiku's eyes met. They were silent but the messages they sent agreed in perfect union: _it's him._

"Did you see his face?"

Amanda shook her head. "But I saw his shoes. I think they were covered with chalks."

 _Chalks?_ Kiku thought of a place where Gilbert might be.

"He… walked right past me and said something to the man who attacked me. But I—I couldn't hear what they were saying. But he came back to me a minute later. He said h—he'll release me but he didn't want me to see his face. He also asked me to call the police after waiting for ten minutes— he even said 'please'."

"Did he have an accent?" asked Kiku, opening her mouth for the first time since they started asking questions to the victim.

"I think it was German. The o—other guy too." Amanda stuttered when she added the detail about B.

To Amanda it was nothing but a little detail but it was a final blow indicating that it was Gilbert who went for B and captured him successfully— And right now he might be torturing him. When Arthur was about to ask another question, the nurse came in and announced respectfully, "I'm sorry interrupt but Ms. Bird needs to rest."

"Thank you for your time," Arthur appreciated and nodded to the nurse without showing any signs of annoyance. However, when they were standing in the hallway, he didn't bother to hide what was in his mind, "God fucking dammit."

"I think I know where they are; last night Gilbert was looking up one of his father's other properties in New York on his laptop. He said he was thinking about moving but what if he was looking for a place for his… plan?" It still felt uneasy for Kiku to imagining about Gilbert murdering someone in cold blood.

"Why do think that's the right place?" inquired Arthur.

"The place was under construction and white powders were all over the place."

"Do you have the address?"

"No."

Arthur nodded sternly. He fished out his phone from his trenchcoat and dialed. "Let me see what I can do."

* * *

"Have anyone told you that you punch like a girl?" asked B, spitting onto the floor.

By the time Gilbert got tired of using the brass knuckle, no part of B's face looked… unharmed. There were blood and bruises everywhere on his face. Gilbert made sure that every wound was placed exactly where he wanted them to be. However, B's repellent grin needed far more works to be erased.

" _Ja_ , a woman did once. A Hungarian who can beat you twice." With his back turned against B, Gilbert placed the bloody brass knuckle onto the table and contemplated about what tool should he use next.

"I'd like to meet her some time." B chuckled. With a few coughs, he continued, "You know I underestimated you. It's been, what, not even three days? What did you do? Snuck into a flight or something?"

"Where am I supposed to take a flight from?"

B exaggerated a face of wonder though the only audience's face was turned away. "Hmm, can't say I can tell— perhaps _Berlin_? Your hometown?"

"What makes you think I'd gone back there?" asked Gilbert, but he wasn't paying attention. He was more preoccupied contemplating which torture he'd do next. _Which nail should I plurk first? Or should I break his fingers first?_ He thought of cutting B's tongue out but he won't be able to hear him screaming or begging for mercy.

"What're you talking about? You're telling me you live here now?" There was a hint of confusion in his voice.

"You know I live here. The note you left me. That's how I found you."

B looked like someone had slapped him in the face. "That was your place?"

"What's wrong, B?" Finally Gilbert faced him. "I'd call you with something else but you seem to prefer your funny nickname."

Exhaling, B shook his head dumbfoundedly. "Something's not right." Then he gritted his teeth; he realized the truth. " **He** set me up." fumed B.

Every mockery and disrespect towards Gilbert disappeared. "Listen to me. I'm not who you think I am; I'm not a serial killer, I'm an assassin working for an employer. I received every names of the victim I killed from him. He pays me."

"Who?" asked Gilbert.

"My employer!"

Gilbert scoffed, "Sure he did."

"M.O.s, the notes, all the fucking 'the infamous B' bullshit, that was him!" B growled.

 _Alright, I'll play your game._ Gilbert inquired, "Let's pretend that's true for a second. What was his motive to kill forty-six people?"

" _Ich weiß nicht (I don't know)._ We've never met. He only sent me encrypted messages all these time." B nodded at his jacket. "My phone's in there, in my jacket. The code is 0712. Look at it if you don't believe me!"

Gilbert fished out B's phone from his jacket and unlocked it. There was only one chat room in his message list with a sender named "?". His eyes scanned countless encrypted messages share between the sender and B. Their messages could be traced back to a few years. However, Gilbert chose to dismiss them. "Some combinations of random alphabets don't prove anything."

"'Basch Zwingli' that's my real name!" sputtered B— Basch Zwingli desperately from his back while Gilbert scanned the messages. "Look it up! I went to the prison because of a fight. There was a trial for it. It was on the news. I couldn't have been to two different places at the same time!

Gilbert couldn't understand himself why he was doing what Zwingli said. However, there was a desperation in his cry which compelled him to do so. On his first search, Gilbert found the heads of articles which proved that Zwingli was telling the truth.

 _Basch Zwingli former Swiss mercenary gone to trial after a bar fight._

For the first time, Gilbert gave him his full attention.

Zwingli brawled, "He'd never shut the fuck up about _you_. Completely obsessed or something. You seemed to be his fascination. He never told me you were here and he sure as hell didn't tell me that was your home I broke into. I wouldn't be surprised if he was the one that killed her."

" _Nein_ ," Gilbert interrupted, "It's you. It has to be you." His hands trembled and the world around him started to crumble.

"The man who you're looking for, the one that killed _dein Mädchen (your girl)—_ that was **Braginski**."

* * *

 **( A / N )**

 **DUN DUN DUN—! Well, so this is it! This mysterious assassin is actually Basch Zwingli (Switzerland) and the one who Gilbert wants to avenge is Braginski!**

 **Although I assume you've already suspected that "B" is Braginski but did anyone realize that this guy isn't him? ;)**

 **Thank you everyone for reading and please leave a review after** ;)


	5. B (4)

Kapitel 4.

 _Two years ago in Berlin, Germany…_

" _Ein Café au Lait für die_ schöne _Dame (A café au lait for the_ beautiful _lady)_."

I wanted to punch that waiter in the face when he winked at my— _associate_.

" _Und ein Bier für den… Herr (And a beer for the… gentleman),_ " the waiter's voice slightly trembled and his body shivers when our eyes met.

" _Danke_ ," Madeline smiled as the waiter put our orders on the table, dazing the waiter for a few seconds until he coughed and left excusing. Great, now she made one more admirer. It irritated the hell out of me that I wasn't the only one who could look at her beautiful face.

 _Verdammt, maybe I should've just asked her to meet at her place again? Then maybe, without anyone gawking at her, we could've fuc—_

"A beer in two o'clock in the afternoon?" Madeline asked in jest, waking me up from the explicit flashback I had.

 _Oh, right._ I completely forgot that I ordered a tankard of beer when we arrived at the cafe.

Madeline leaned closer, wearing a smile. "You know what I'm thinking?" A challenge.

I raised an eyebrow.

"You don't know how to ask someone out nor do you know how to treat them in those occasions?"

I almost swallowed from how accurate she was. _Never cease to impress me Frau Williams._ There were only two ways that I had women as my companies: having investigative conversations about my case or taking them straight to my bed until they leave the next morning _wearing a smile_.

Not only did Madeline fulfilled the first two but went further. _I_ wanted to go further.

"Ich—" cleared the throat, "I had some questions to ask." _And do_ other _things together at night._ "Like what brought you to Germany?"

"Work," Madeline shrugged a simple answer. I sensed the hints that whatever the work was, it preoccupied her. "I'm here for a project that's gonna take me a long time" she took a small sip from her mug. "But if you'd like to show me around, I'd be happy to join you." She eyed suggestively, leaning closer.

"Just the two of us?" I smirked, implying the same suggestion and leaning closer as well.

Madeline smirked mischievously. "One condition." She leaned back.

 _Huh?_

"Behave yourself."

Dumbfounded, I blinked. "Was I too rough back then?"

"Not that." Madeline rolled her eyes. "I sense that even though you're very capable, you choose to pretend bad and try to hide behind the work you do. Don't you already know how all the princes are like in fairy tales and you know _my_ interests in fairy tales."

I scratched the back of my neck to avoid any embarrassment. I simply took a sip from my tankard when Madeline winked and took a sip from her coffee.

" _Mutti! Mutti! Mein Eis!_ " At the seat nearby, there was a sniveling boy holding the cone of the ice cream which fell on the ground. His mother tried to lull the boy but the boy started crying.

"Maybe start with that boy right there?" Madeline sheepishly slid a desert menu to Gilbert, moving her sight to the boy.

* * *

"Braginski is who you want, not me." Zwingli huffed.

"I thought you said you weren't afraid of dying."

Zwingli rolled in his fists. "It's not fear I'm feeling right now. It's anger! Braginski sold me out. And I will make him pay for it."

 _And do you think you do not deserve to die?_ The grip around the dagger got harder. "You're a monster. A psychopath. A murderer."

"I am," Zwingli agreed, he understood what Gilbert was implying. "All of those… but I am no liar."

"No." Gilbert sauntered to Zwingli aggressively. Then he grabbed him by the scuff of the neck.

"I wasn't even in the country that day! I couldn't have hurt your girl!"

"I don't believe you."

"You're special, Beilschmidt. You're one of a kind in this world. And I know that you know what I'm saying is true. You think I'm wrong? Look me in the eyes and tell me. Tell me that you don't believe what I'm telling you!"

Gilbert couldn't do it. Because now he knew. He knew that everything that Zwingli said was true. There was no loophole to avoid what he said wasn't true. However, that didn't stop Gilbert from placing his dagger at Zwingli's neck. No matter how much Zwingli bawled Gilbert didn't listen— he didn't _want_ to listen. "No, it was you. You killed her."

The shaking in his voice was so obvious. The deadliness in Gilbert's eyes didn't fade but the dagger in his hand was stalling.

Zwingli flinched but he did not avoid Gilbert's glare. "If you kill me now, you kill the best clue to find him." For the first time Zwingli's voice carried nothing but the calm. No anger, no hatred, only the calm. He was true to his words: he was not afraid of death.

After the moment which felt like an eternity had passed, Gilbert released Zwingli's neck and lower the dagger.

"I knew you'd make the right choice. As much as you want to get him, I want to get him too. Release me. And I will help you with your revenge."

Gilbert stood like a statue, staying silent.

"You know what you have to do. You know you can get him. Wir _können ihn kriegen (_ We _can get him)_."

Devil's whisper, that was what Zwingli was. Then Gilbert wasn't known for devil's advocate. Gilbert's eyes met Zwingli's.

" _Ich weiß genau was ich muss machen (I know exactly what I must to do)._ "

Before Zwingli could understand or ask what he meant, Gilbert's dagger penetrated his stomach.

* * *

" **AAAARGH!** "

"Are there any other properties owned by his father that's under construction?"

"No, Captain. This is the only one."

"Well, then let's assume that this is the right one," Arthur unlocked the safety switch of his pistol with determination. Despite his occupation, Arthur never liked guns. However, that didn't suggest his pistol didn't save his life on multiple occasions. If Gilbert had already killed B he wouldn't be here but if B had killed Gilbert, today his pistol would save his life again.

With two dozen heavily armed officers, Arthur kicked the front door open. Steel scaffolds, plastics, various types of racks, were scattered all over making Gilbert even more invisible in this warehouse with no light. However, the white flour all over the floor was very visible —which was suspected as the same white flour Amanda White had testified.

"Beilschmidt! If you're here, get down on the ground now and tell us where you are!"

No replies.

Arthur gritted his teeth, "Search the place. And when you find Beilschmidt, do _not_ let your guard down." _Fuck, I'm really going to regret this._ "Treat him as another culprit."

Some of the officers cringed but didn't oppose.

 _Beilschmidt, if you're here, please. Don't make me do this._ Arthur beseeched as he scanned anything he could see with his flashlight and his pistol.

Then his eyes caught something.

In front of the steel fence, there was a bloodstain on the floor. Arthur aimed his flashlight and crouched down. He didn't need a DNA test to know whose blood it was.

"My God…" _They were here._

Buzz—

Deadpanned, Arthur answered the phone, "Kirkland."

 _You gotta be kidding me._

Arthur hung up and announced, "It's Kiku Honda. Gilbert is here at the precinct with B."

* * *

Behind the observation mirror, Kiku was listening to everything with a coffee in her hand. Most of the times, Captain Kirkland's officers interrogate the culprits and debrief him later. However, Gilbert had woken up the lion in him. Despite his officers' attempts to talk him out, the captain insisted to see the end of this bullocks.

"For the last _fucking_ time, I was never abducted. I lured Beilschmidt to that girl's house and had him followed me to that warehouse."

"The warehouse which happened to be his father's property?" Arhtur inquired skeptically. However, he was jotting down Zwingli's suspicious testimony.

Zwingli shrugged. "What can I say? I just thought it'd be pretty interesting if you were to find his body after I win our little game."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Remind me how you got those wounds again?" Pointing at his bruised face.

Zwingli twisted his lips. "I jumped onto him when I thought I saw the chance but he was faster than I thought. Simple."

"So he stabbed you," Arthur concluded, narrowing his green eyes.

"As a self defense, _ja_. I got lucky. According to the doc that looked me over in the cell, he missed every major organ."

"How fantastic," Arthur snorted, not even bothering to hide his suspicion.

"My point exactly," Zwingli sneered back.

"And your bruises?"

"I got a couple of hits when I jumped onto him. Didn't know he could actually fight."

"You didn't mention it before."

"I'm mentioning now."

That was the last piece of the puzzle Kiku need. Assuming that she heard everything that needed to be heard. Kiku left the observation room and went to find Gilbert in Captain Kirkland's office. Gilbert was sitting uncomfortably on the couch uncharastically empty and motionless. However, what shocked her the most were his red moisturized eyes.

"You're missing an interesting confession," Kiku started but Gilbert kept his state as she expected.

"The stab wound he sustained, he claims that he got it during the struggle, but if he had I'm pretty sure there would've been more damage. It looked restrained, nearly surgical."

Gilbert's hand flinched. _So you did spare his life,_ thought Kiku, _You did it not only to avoid the charges of a kidnap and an attempted murder, but also_

"I was a surgeon. I don't know if I could've stab someone without doing any real damage. If that's what you meant to do, I'm impressed." Kiku gently sat down next to motionless Gilbert. "I actually had my doubts about you, but thank you for making the right decision."

"It wasn't him," finally Gilbert opened his mouth.

"What?"

"He didn't kill Madeline."

"Gilbert…"

"He couldn't have. He wasn't even in the country. I confirmed it awhile ago." Every word Gilbert breathed, expressed how empty he felt.

"Zwingli is willing to confess to all the murders he committed but he won't give you up," Kiku said with condolences.

"He believes that he's been sold out by the man he used to work for. He's counting on me to bring justice."

"Are you going to help him?"

Gilbert didn't answer. When people didn't answer question the answer was simple. Nonetheless, this was Gilbert. She couldn't read him; no one could read him if that was his intention. However, thankfully his eyes didn't hold the same malice unlike the like time when he confessed his plan to her. Kiku apprehended that Gilbert wouldn't do anything like this again. But the sadness gleaming weakly in his eyes— she couldn't avoid them. She couldn't stay relieved just because he didn't make the mistake.

" _Tut mir_ …" Gilbert's voice cracked as he stammered.

Kiku blinked, her eyes widened.

Gilbert cleared his throat, trying his best to hold his tears and trying his best not to let his voice crack.

"I'm sorry." He thought about being rude to her.

"I'm sorry." He thought about lying to her.

"I'm sorry." He thought about threatening her.

"I'm sorry." He thought about coming close to making the mistake that he couldn't have undone— a tear trickled down from his cheek.

"I guess I did need a sober companion after all." With that being said, Gilbert slowly got up from his seat and left the office tiredly, leaving Kiku alone perplexed. Kiku didn't know how long she was sitting there trying to make a decision, but she knew that she wanted to help Gilbert. She took her phone out and dialed the number she had never dialed before. It only rang once before someone who wanted to talk directly didn't pick up.

"Herr Beilschmidt's office," a secretary on the other side of the phone answered.

"Hi, this is Kiku Honda. Is Herr Beilschmidt available?"

"He's in a meeting right now. Would you like to leave a message?"

"Oh…" Kiku conflicted. "Could you tell him—"

* * *

While sipping her green tea, Kiku worriedly glanced Gilbert as he helplessly laid on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. It was the first time seeing him like this: _empty_. Normally, he would've been doing things that she never understood but also surprisingly amusing or actually practical. But not today. Gilbert wasn't examining files of cold case, picking various locks, or practicing his self defense skills.

As if her phone wanted to interrupt her from worrying about Gilbert, it alerted a new email. Kiku had been waiting for the reply since she had contacted one of Herr Beilschmidt's secretaries, she wished that the email from him had never arrived.

 _Ms. Honda,_

 _I received your message. I'm aware that there was nothing you could've done to prevent my son from committing attempted murder. I'm sorry that you had to be involved. However, considering the incident and the lieable possibility of dangers he might put you into, I've decided to let you go. But know that no disadvantage will fall on your career._

 _You can expect your check shortly._

 _Beilschmidt._

Now it was Kiku's turn to stare blankly. In addition, since Gilbert and his father never had a direct conversation for at least a few years, she knew that she was the one who had to tell him about this. Exhaling fatigued, Kiku slowly sauntered to the couch where Gilbert laid.

Gilbert leaned his head up and asked, "What is it, Honda?"

He had never sounded so shattered like this. It worried Kiku.

"It's your father," however, Kiku continued. Gilbert immediately buried his face deep into the couch but the following was enough grab his attention.

"I sent him an email about everything and he responded he just responded."

For the second time, Gilbert leaned up and asked, "What'd he say?"

"He—" _Here it goes. There's no turning back._ "—wanted to me to give my extra attention to you and gave me more jurisdictions of what you do. After everything that happened the last couple of days."

Gilbert blinked, surprised. "That's all?"

"That's all." assured Kiku. Then she turned her heels and headed to the kitchen. It was around six o'clock and according to her original schedule, it was her turn to make dinner. Today was more tired than any other days. Maybe she'd make something simple like ramen. Despite her roommate's distaste against it, the spicy taste would burn the stresses away.

"Hey, Honda?"

If it weren't for Gilbert who had stopped her.

Kiku slowly turned around and raised an eyebrow, trying to look calm as possible. In her head, she discreetly went through her actions and searched for any mistakes she might had done which made Gilbert to feel suspicious or realized that she was lying. Although it took not even a few seconds for Gilbert to open his mouth, millions of nervous thoughts circled in her brain.

"Since my father wants you to work harder and I kinda think I can share some parts of the B case," Gilbert cleared his throat awkwardly. "I was thinking that we can go to the meeting tonight? If you think you can cook a late dinner tonight."

"We can do that. Or—" she let him hang. "Well, I know there's a meeting in Prince Street in an hour and we can have take-outs nearby one our way? I heard wursts and mashed potatoes there are exquisite." For the first time in days, Kiku could smile genuinely.

Gilbert scoffed but reciprocated with a grin. It was sarcastic as ever, but there was an equal warmth with Kiku's smile. "I'd like that."

* * *

 **( A / N )**

 **I'm tremendously sorry for the late update! Not only I've been massively busy but too many disasters have also occurred in my life. However, I think that I'd apologize to you again ;( But I'll try my best to keep the update fast and keep the story intriguing.**

 **Anyone who thought Gilbert killed Basch when he stabbed him? Well, our Prussian defies all the predictions we make, doesn't he? What a smartass xD**

 **Let's raise our thumbs to Kiku for not only trying her best to stop Gilbert from making the worst mistake of his life but also decided to stay with him despite everything that happened!**

 **Thank you for reading! :D**

 **Reviews are always welcomed ;)**

 **Next chapter is "Die Frage Ist…"**

* * *

Epilog

 _St. Petersburg, Russia._

A few knocks on the door.

"Come in," the Russian ordered.

A henchman in a black suit entered, holding a file. "I'm sorry to bother you but I have a report from New York."

The Russian raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"Everything went exactly as you thought it would," the henchman reported with a hint of admiration as he handed the file.

"So Zwingli decided to change side." With the legs crossed, the Russian took the file and grabbed a few ice cubes from the ice bucket. _Cling!_ The clear sound of ice cubes hitting the double shot glass rang classically as the Russian dropped the ice cubes.

" _Да_ , according to the informant, Zwingli told him the truth about Madeline Williams. Before—"

"Before he tried to recruit the detective, believing that he is the only one who could get me."

The henchman nodded. "Now he's incarcerated in Newgate State Prison."

"As he should be." The violet eyes gleamed. "Tell Eduard Von Bock to get ready for the next step."

" _Хорошо._ " The henchman nodded.

Once the henchman left the room, the Russian opened a file. Every last step of Detective Gilbert Beilschmidt and the prediction of his next steps.

"Dear me, Herr Beilschmidt. Dear me." The Russian clicked the tongue and poured a bottle of stolichnaya into the glass. _At the end of our game you shall fall into the deepest hole of despair and self-destruction._

" _На здоровье_." **Braginski** raised the glass with satisfaction and emptied the glass.


End file.
